Cerulean Skies
by Nebula Zirconia
Summary: Why are Muggles so despised? Because they are inferior to wizards? Or does the truth lie deeper, forgotten by time itself... but not Voldemort. He had another reason for being in the Dept. of Mysteries on that fateful night. Prepare yourself, world. [OCs]
1. Introduction

∞« Ceruλεαn § ΣkÎes »∞  
  
Introduction  
  
The woman stood silently in the doorway of the kitchen, watching her husband. His head lifted slightly from the thick parchment at the scent of the delightful aroma diffusing from the kitchen into his study, across the way. Everything was so quiet. All that reminded him he was not alone was the soft whisper of his wife's breathing.  
  
"Dinner is ready, my dear." Her soft, soothing voice spoke from behind. He smiled and withdrew from the large, leather-bound book before him, leaving the ink to dry. "Is it complete?"  
  
"Almost, my dear." He slowly raised his hand and caressed her cheek. She smiled back, her soft brown eyes glowing with love. Suddenly their moment was spoiled by a loud cry from the kitchen.  
  
"Papa! Food!"  
  
"I'm coming, Sorcha." Her father replied. After a last look back at the book, he slowly pulled away and walked into the adjoining room, disappearing from sight. For a moment, the woman's eyes spun round and gazed at the object on the desk. The book. The temptation to read it was desperately overwhelming. It had been her husband's passion for the past few years, and he still denied telling her any of it. Why? What was there that she should not see? What secrets hidden in there could truly be that dangerous for her to know? Or at least, what harm could come from knowing the truth about the past?  
  
She stepped over to the desk. The ink was dry. The woman sat down softly on the chair. Silently she closed the book and read the title. It said "CERULEAN SKIES" in large, gilded letters, then below these in smaller print read, "Come before these Vermilion Horizons." The title intrigued her, urged her to turn the cover. As she placed a finger on the tight leather rim, her ears pricked up. What was that noise? Oh, it was only Sorcha playing with her food again. Partially relieved, she flipped open the cover.  
  
A fresh breeze swiftly swept past the back of her neck and round to the nape, ruffling her thick, long hair. A soft, eerie voice floated by in the wind. The words it spoke, she could not comprehend, yet the tone chilled her to the bone. She spun round to see where the stirred air had come from, but the window was shut and the air inside was as warm as the sun's rays. After all these years, she thought, she had never sensed the essential power of the Arcana, until now. Wizard's magic was easy to pick up, but her husband continued to amaze her. She could never underestimate him. That's why she loved him so, yet trust for her was harder to acquire these days. Guiltily, she became aware of a presence behind her.  
  
"I was going to let you read it soon anyway. I thought it would be a nice surprise." Lines of slight disappointment showed on his still young face. For all her virtues, she lacks trust and patience, he mused.  
  
"I'm sorry, please forgive me!" She rose from the chair desperately. "I couldn't resist. It called out to me-" Tears rose to her eyes as she gazed upon him. She needed the memories of the past. She needed to know why. She needed him.  
  
He moved over to his wife and took her in his arms. Clearing his mind of all thoughts, he allowed her emotions and feelings to waft over him, into his mind, where he would console her. After a moment, he determined this woman had suffered a lot more than she had ever let him know. Being torn forever from her friends because of her love for him was the greatest.  
  
"I thought I'd lost you... forever... If he had taken you I would've-" Her voice broke down into sobs of grief.  
  
"Shhh... Do not worry about what might have happened. We are safe now, and for that, we should be thankful. I know I won't do anything that stupid ever again." He whispered. Suddenly she lifted her head from his chest and swallowed.  
  
"Then let me read me it. Now. It's the only way. I'm ready, I am." He pulled back from her and paused.  
  
"You may not like what you read. There are things that – for your protection – I would rather you not know."  
  
"I swear on Merlin AND Zafir that I can handle anything that's in that book." The abrupt use of his mother's name caught him of guard. He looked at her hard. Could she handle it? He had not intended for a witch to be the book's first reader. The magic bound within it was slightly unfriendly to wizards it seemed. It would take a strong will to tame and train it. Yes, she was the one. After all, he didn't love this woman for nothing.  
  
"It seems I have no choice." His smooth voice hardened. "Besides the fact that the curse on the book will drain the life from you until you finish it." He was deadly serious. She managed a laugh and wiped a tear from her cheek. She moved over to the desk and sat by it.  
  
"You are cruelly evil. Who else would put such a curse on a book that you wanted people to read?" She said. He told her it gave them a fairly good incentive to read it.  
  
"Now, you must remain calm." He knelt down and whispered in her ear. "This is a powerful book, naturally, even to me. But I don't know the effects it could have on you. Remember I will be here for you in case you need me. I love you and I will ensure that nothing will happen to you."  
  
"What do mean?" Her voice contained a hint of uncertainty.  
  
"Do you trust me?" He asked her seriously. She paused and gazed deep into his silvery blue eyes. They looked back critically with a cold, hypnotic edge.  
  
"I trust you with all my heart." His wife told him at last with sincerity.  
  
She relaxed as he passed his hand over the book. Suddenly its pages began to spin furiously until the black words seemed to form swirling symbols as they flew past. As she watched unblinkingly, the book began to vibrate. Bright white light poured out from the spine through the pages throwing images of many all-too-familiar scenes onto them. She leaned forward, captivated. Suddenly the book slammed shut. A symbol she had last seen only a long time ago was etched in flame across the back of the leather-bound book. What did this mean? Her fingers cautiously moved over and caressed the surface. The small flames caused her fingers to tingle. A strange sensation began to pass up along her arm, towards her face. What was happening? At first it was warm and comforting, but the heat spread and grew until it felt like it was melting her bones. She tried to scream. Nothing but air rushed out. Then her vision began to blur and fade. Flashes of swirling flames flooded her mind, draining her every moment. Her stomach clenched. The beating of her heart resounded in her ears. She knew she was going to die.  
  
Then, as if someone had grabbed her by the hand, she felt herself soaring forwards through the kaleidoscope of colours towards a black square at the end. As she drew closer, it formed the shape – the one on the back of the book and the one she had seen so long ago. But she did not slow down as it drew closer. She realised she was going to crash into it. She tried to stop herself, but she was out of control. There was nothing she could do. Her body smashed through it like glass.  
  
On the other side, her body was hurled into something very hard. The woman barely had the energy to open her eyes. Her head was spinning. She had already forgotten why she had wanted to read the book so badly after all. Then suddenly, a man's strong hand took her by the arm and pulled her shakily to her feet. Her helper was tall and dressed all in black. His face could hardly be seen in the sudden darkness in which she found herself.  
  
"Where... where am I?" She murmured. He did not reply. "Who are you?" This time he smiled.  
  
"I am the narrator. That is all you need to know."  
  
"You are the book?"  
  
"I would prefer if you did not ask questions, did not even speak at all. Its not that they can hear you, it is because you will have a greater need for your voice later." His black eyes glinted in the moonlight. "Allow me." The strange character hooked her arm in his and they began to walk.  
  
"This, my lady" he motioned with his arm along the dark alley where they stood "is where the story begins. I advise you never to leave my side, or you may not return to the present reality in one piece." She nodded in sincere acknowledgement. He turned and faced her grimly. "Now, my introduction.  
  
"Greetings, my intrepid reader... Allow me to express my sincere gratitude that someone holds as deep a desire to understand the recent revelations of  
time and fate as I do. I however, am not disposed to give an unbiased verdict on these generally misfortunate events, so I have taken the liberty to transcribe all of which I am certain, uncertain, and those of which I  
know not. This is a tale of times past returning to haunt the Earth as it is; leaving little hope and much dread for the events which have not yet come to pass.  
  
I begin that things are not always what they seem, and sometimes it's the simple choices that we have to make, which change the course of humanity most. Yet, in the end, it seems that a pinch of love in this world can make all the difference between life and death, success and defeat. You know of  
what I speak, my dear, and so I will say no more.  
  
However, I must warn you in all seriousness of the mortal peril in which you place yourself by reading the subsequent pages. The events that I have recorded speak not of my own thoughts and opinions, but the truth that is. And let's face it, not all of us can face up to the truth. Even fewer can  
do something about it. However, this book contains raw, unbiased truth, which in this life is so precious that men would go to unspeakable lengths  
to get their bloody hands on it.  
  
So, let us at last depart on our journey, for no tale begins at the end,  
every book has its genesis..."  
  
As she stood beside him, the mysterious man stretched out a thin but gracious hand and drew a long circle of light in the air before them. Upon looking through, she saw that it was nothing like the area around her; dark, foreign and uninviting. The place into which she gazed, she recognized very well.  
  
"Hogwarts." She whispered unbelievingly. It had been too long.  
  
"Shall we?" He asked politely, beckoning her forward. The smile that rose to her face would have lit up the street. And so together, they stepped into a whole other realm of magic, and deep into the dark, bloodstained, nightmare of the past, ruled by the blackest Hell Earth had ever known since the beginnings of time.  
  
******************************** A/N: This chapter is set in another realm/ universe and is a few years in the future. The next chapter is the chap 1 of C.S., set in Harry's 5th summer (the "past" mentioned). All will be revealed my friends... 


	2. Memories of the Past

> Sorry everyone that I haven't updated! I've had months of exams to endure, so its sympathy I need, not angry, woe-bringing mobs. Its true! "Look sir if you don't believe me I'll bring in a note tomorrow from my mother, ok?"  
  
A/N: Don't worry about the last chapter- if you get it, good, if you don't, that's not important. The real action, however, begins here in this chapter, Chapter 1 of the book Cerulean Skies. Time Period now: Summer after 5th book.  
  
'R' rated chapter! Beware! You have been warned... Foul Play. Scenes may anger some people.
> 
> ...oO0Oo...  
  
Memories of the Past, Visions of the Future.  
  
The Potions Master of Hogwarts was sitting beside his desk, alone. He was vaguely aware of the warm, crackling fire beyond and the drafts that resulted from the perilous storm outside endeavouring to extinguish it. His mind was deeply involved elsewhere however, so that his furrowed brow became more defined and tiny creases appeared around his darkening eyes. In his hands he held a small, well-kept notebook that smelt of time, dust, old cologne and smoke.  
  
After a moment he turned and placed the open book on the desk, allowing more light to fall on its yellow-tinged pages. Pages that were graced with now faded ink, and letters that flowed smoothly into each other forming words, yet retaining their individual perfection. _If only I could write like that now,_ he thought. Over the years the book's owner had forgotten the art of calligraphy, and more-so the memories that he had recorded with it.  
  
As the Professor read, his ebony-black eyes reflected clearly the volatile twisting and flickering of the firelight. Subconsciously he noted that it was as if the fire too was reacting to the things he read – flaring up with anger or subsiding with slight pangs of guilt and sadness. The man reached out and took a sip of the clear liquid in a small glass beside him, which was certainly not water. After his lips were moistened and his throat stinging in the bitter after-effects of the deceptive liquid, Severus reluctantly lowered his flame-glazed eyes once more to behold the words that unleashed his terrible crimes forgotten.  
  
xxxxxxxx(Flashback as he reads the diary)xxxxxxxx
> 
> The night air was as cold and still as ice. The heavy, grey clouds above, which hid the usually burning fires of the stars, threatened snow. This was unlucky for the poor souls who stood out in it. Of course, some of them were just plain stupid, others, however, had little choice. To stand inside in the warmth, you had to be special. And to be special, you had to make money. To make money, you had to be very pretty, and very good. Otherwise you were condemned to a harsh existence in the street, where all you could do to attract attention was to use your body, or possibly even your wit. It was a bitch-eat-bitch life at best, where you were told that your body did not belong to you, but to your mistress, because she fed and clothed your neglected body, who in turn belonged to her master, because he would kill her if she did not.  
  
On this particular night it was rumoured that the master wished to pay a visit to his 'lady', which these past months had become increasingly rare. He apparently had other things to attend to in these Dark times.  
  
Women gathered hopelessly around the door of the brothel. There would hardly be any customers for them tonight, they thought, wandering through these streets in the gloomy midnight air.  
  
"Men would rather stay at home with their wrinkly old wives, than snuggle up to our warm bosoms!" One of the larger ones voiced aloud, expecting none to reply. So she was rather shocked when not only a reply came, but it was from a man; a tall and handsome man who was lurking in the shadows across the street, his face half hidden in the darkness. He was leaning casually on a short, intricately carved silver and mahogany staff.  
  
"All our wives put together couldn't match you, Isabel." His charming and educated voice rang out clearly and attracted the stares of every female present. The woman in question was clearly flustered at his presence and moved closer to him.  
  
"Oh my! Sir, I didn't see you arrive! We were expecting our master, though. He should be 'ere soon. Will he be staying long d'you think?"  
  
"No, I believe he is only coming to smooth out an issue with your mistress. It will not take long." The man's voice was laden with meaning.  
  
"Nothing serious I hope?" The woman batted her over mascara-ed eyes innocently at him.  
  
"Only a slight 'glitch' in the system, as they say." His silver orbs glinted with malice. Isabel did not seem to notice, however.  
  
"I'm surprised he's coming personally, though. If he'd just sent you..." She moved still closer to him. Her hands began to caress his chest through the black robes then moved up to his firm shoulders, massaging them. "It could've been your lucky night." Another younger and taller, but fearfully thin woman broke away from the group and approached the blonde haired aristocrat.  
  
"Perhaps we could entertain you while you wait? There is plenty of room inside by the fire, and as you know the wine is always excellent." Her voice was tantalising and her words well chosen and practiced. "All we desire is some company, Sir." Other harlots began to move, suddenly very interested. Isabel's hands descended over his body and down his arms. A small, bloodless smile rose to his lips, but his eyes remained cool and focused. Then, Isabel gasped in horror.  
  
As her hands had begun to run up and down the man's left sleeve, it caught on one of her many bracelets and slid up towards his elbow. When Isabel looked across to free herself, she saw something that chilled her to the bone. The black symbol of terror glared at her from beneath his rolled cuff. The Dark Mark. She screamed, clamping her hand to her mouth and leapt back, falling to the cold, hard stone beneath. Her high heel was wedged in a crack between the cobbles.  
  
The other women moved away immediately, not knowing what had happened until another shouted "The Dark Mark!" loud enough for all to hear, pointing to the sky. Sure enough, there it was in all its formidable glory, blazing brighter than the new moon. Fear spread among them like wind through a valley. Women began frantically piling through the doors of the brothel, screaming and shoving, fighting desperately for their pathetic lives. As if they stood a chance in there.  
  
"Lambs to the slaughter" the Death Eater in their midst noted, as he watched the scene. "They're coming. You can run, but you cannot hide." he called maliciously to those who remained. At a glance, he saw that Isabel still lay on the ground not far from him, tugging at her shoe. In one fluid movement, he bent over her and fastened his gloved hand around her jaw like a vice. His voice was no longer soft and casual; his words rang with a cruel, murderous tone. Now he meant business.  
  
"I would take my gloves off, but I wouldn't want to get my hands dirty." He began spitefully. "Go inside and warn your mistress that our Master has declared she is to reap what she has sown. We know she has been toying with us. But this game, we don't play. Nikita cannot slave for two masters, for she is bound to betray one... She has chosen, and may the Dark Lord have pity on her for I do not." He threw the horrified woman backwards to the ground and stepped away from her. When she lingered pitifully, he seized her by the arm and struck her hard across the face. Isabel's breathing became shallow as two tears slid down her burning cheek. "Get out of my sight, harlot." Lucius spat, pushing the woman towards the door. She stumbled across the street on her weak and aching legs, barely able to see the door through the veil of tears, never mind open it.  
  
A moment later, a familiar chuckle sounded from the corner of the street nearby. "I don't think Narcissa would take that kind of treatment from you, being a sister of this one." The short but stocky man had a twisted grin on his haggard face and jabbed his thumb behind him.  
  
"She learnt from the best. Now, Lucius, where is my darling husband? He should've arrived already." A dark featured woman strode gracefully from behind her associate and commented on his remark while walking over to the man whom she addressed.  
  
"Bellatrix, glad you could make it. I have not yet seen Roldolphus, but he will come. Mulciber, however, I fail to understand why you should be present. All you will do after all is take advantage of the women."  
  
"Got it in one, Malfoy. You're gettin' sharper." The fellow Death Eater sighed wearily at his colleague. There was too much still to do for him to get angered at this stage over a lame retort made by that underdog. "Where's Crabbe and Goyle?"  
  
"They're too destructive. The Dark Lord felt it would better if they did not attend this raid. I completely agree." A soft snapping noise nearby pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to address the final member of their posse tonight.  
  
"Your wife was looking for you, Roldolphus." His silver eyes shone casually. "You should've left her at home, come out and had a good time with the boys for a change." Bellatrix shot him a filthy look. Her husband, however, laughed half-heartedly and stepped over to his wife. His only show of his deep love for her was a gentle stroke on her soft cheek, anything more would've been inappropriate. He was rewarded with a smile.  
  
Mulciber grunted and let his lazy eyes drift over to the faded red door of the brothel. Lucius, on the other hand, turned from the pair to the black shadows where Roldolphus had emerged from and squinted into the darkness. No-one had yet spotted the final member of their group, who had in fact arrived at the same time as Lucius. In one particular spot against the wall, he noted, was something blacker than the shadows, something that seemed to draw in all the specks of light reaching it, reflecting nothing. The longer he looked; it began to take on the form of a man.  
  
"Severus, come join us. The celebrations will soon begin." The person did not move immediately, then they turned their head and the whites of their eyes sparkled eerily in the lamp light.  
  
"These celebrations do not befit my taste." The soft, almost inaudible murmur still cut through the air clearly enough for Lucius to hear it.  
  
"Come on, it'll just be like old times. We'll show the ladies what we're really made of," he added with an evil glint in his eye.  
  
After a brooding moment, the younger man emerged from the shadows in a whirl of midnight black robes and stood beside his friend. He answered quietly, "Lucius, I'm trying to forget those painful years of my life. Some things are better left in the past." The others noticed him, finally, and briefly nodded in recognition.  
  
"Yes, you are right Severus, it is time to move on," he said, taking him by the shoulders gently "and look what the wonderful new future holds for us. All we have to do is _grasp_ it. That's what our Lord has been saying all along – shock the system, weaken it, then take what you want. This society was held together by frail, old bastards. Now is the time to take it, seize power now that He's in control. It's what we've planned, calculated, manipulated and then waited so long for. Absolute power is what we've wanted all along ... are you too weak to seek it, my friend?" Lucius' silver eyes glowed strangely, almost with religious awe as he spoke, which intrigued the other. Severus glanced at the door of the brothel darkly and allowed his lip to curl up in a half smile. The elder took this as one of his many subtle forms of acquiescence, so he went on. "What were you doing back there anyway?"  
  
"I was merely preparing myself for the task at hand and did not wish to be disturbed, Lucius." Snape told him, with a hint of admonition. He glanced over at Bellatrix and her husband. "However, since you seem anxious to get this party started, and everyone appears to be present... I'd say it's time. She'll be ready for us." Lucius nodded slightly at his friend and said softly, "I hope you are assured about whatever was on your mind." Then he turned to address the others but before he could move, a pale, thin hand touched his arm. "I haven't yet been given the chance to prove myself to Him, and quite frankly I look forward to the opportunity." Severus whispered to assure him, hopefully not too enthusiastically. His friend's silver eyes in turn glinted with pleasure.  
  
"Then you shall have your wish. Everyone, it is time. Don your masks."
> 
> * * *
> 
> The truth was I sincerely disliked the finer points of this business. There were so many unnecessary deaths. So many people could have been spared. Killing out of necessity or to instruct was one issue, but for pleasure? I could never give myself wholeheartedly to that. Especially of women.  
  
We stormed the door. Some ran up the large staircase to the upper rooms where most were likely to be, the rest cleaned up downstairs. Our primary objective was Nikita, however, a woman I had never even met before, although I was well acquainted with the family personally so I knew roughly what she would look like – small physique, long black hair and likely dark green eyes.  
  
There was no one to be seen, initially. Then some of us began to fire spells around the room, completely obliterating everything and revealing the hidden ones. One young, desperate child flung herself at Roldolphus, allowing a distraction for her friend to run past him to the door– directly into my hands. The child reacted viciously, biting and kicking, and her teeth were sharp. My grip on her soon began to slip. The brat became awkward and tore my wand from my hands, throwing it across the floor.  
  
"Alright there, Snape?" came a mocking call from the room. I shot Roldolphus a look he has not forgotten till this day. It shut him up at least. The child twisted in my arms, attempting to bite through the sleeve. I held her waist tight in my arms so she could not twist again. Then she began to scream, loudly. That was about all I could take. In one swift movement, I locked my arm securely around her head, and pulled back. The crunch was ever so soft, but my ears did not miss it. Her voice immediately petered away. Her last breath taken. The child's expression at last became serene. Slowly, I walked into the other room already strewn with stiff carcasses and laid her small body gently on the bloodstained chaise-longe. The scene affected me more than it should have, it seems. But at least now she was at peace. Lucky girl, I, however, still have to recover from my wounds.  
  
A slight lump rose to my throat, but I quickly banished it. This was certainly not the first time I had killed someone, but as the child died in my arms she whispered something. I could only just make it out; she said "I forgive you." She forgave me, and she didn't even know her killer. Although her words were unlike her actions, I felt something well up inside me. Initially I cast her as stupid to say such a thing, but upon reflection I could not ignore it.  
  
Lucius was right. This is what it's all about - power, dominance, control and submission led to greatness for some but death and angst for the rest. Suddenly and unexpectedly I felt a wave of empathy for these poor creatures. It was so uncharacteristic of me I wondered if I was unwell. I later learned that it was a human feeling, and the first step to recognising the spell of deception that I was under. The only way out now is death, I thought. My eyes darkened heavily behind my untainted mask at this realisation. Already my sickened heart grew leaden with anxiety. Lucius would never know how right he was sometimes. No, none of them could ever know. To them, all I could be was the faithful servant, like them. I could not betray myself and my suddenly, _innocently_ seditious musings. I'm in too deep to change my mind. The Dark Lord is my Master now, and still, he generously rewards his faithful. I turned to the others with a solemn expression; they were leaving. My eyes beheld the massacre of youth before me through strands of black hair parting my vision. The scene was becoming all too familiar. Yet it still amazes me what five Death Eaters can do in two minutes.  
  
As I stood, something by the fireplace caught my eye. It was a medal. On it was a strange holographic symbol of a coat of arms. Alarm bells suddenly began to ring in the back of my mind. Where had I seen this before? Quickly I strode to the hall to retrieve my wand then returned and tapped the face of the medal with it. At first nothing happened. Then it began to swirl. This puzzled me so I placed my hand on it, sensing that this was more than an ordinary medallion. The metal glowed at my touch, and then the whole fireplace began to retreat. I jerked back, startled, my eyes flitting back and forth as the wall before me transformed into an upwards spiralling stone passageway. Cautiously, I entered.  
  
I let my sight adjust naturally to the sudden lack of light, saving my wand for more important things, (for I am well aware of what women can do when they are threatened). At the top of the passageway a door revealed itself from the shadows. It opened at my command.  
  
The first thing to strike me when I entered the room was the soft fragrance of women. Not the rich perfumes that laced the air downstairs so thickly it made breathing a difficulty, no, this was their natural essence. It was so subtle and delicate; I felt it would be hard to resist anything a woman presented. I remained at the doorway, carefully watching, taking in the rich blend of aromas. It was delightful, coupled with the pleasing soft shades of red and purple adorning the room. I closed my eyes briefly, concentrating again on all the natural oils diffusing through the air. There were jasmine, lily, rose... my mind was beginning to settle, why was I here again? Then a moment later my dimming senses picked up minute traces of something else... Nightshade? Hellebore? Oh God, not Monkshood?! There was a lethal, toxic concoction heavily lacing the air I breathed. My eyes burst open. I found I could not focus precisely on anything and I could already taste the bitter tingling of the monkshood on my tongue. My mind was beginning to numb... It is an awful, disconcerting experience when you know that it is the first sign of poisoning. Yet I found strange thoughts passing through my mind as I stood there. Whoever made that potion was good... I knew all the effects of nightshade and its deadly components, belladonna, henbane and thorn apple – dilation of the pupils, dryness of the mouth, quickened pulse... paralysis, even delirium. Then suddenly I knew - there is someone else in this room waiting for me. This I had not expected. I would have to act fast. Then I saw her.  
  
As I reached into my black robes, my vision unsteady, a slim figure also draped all in black emerged from behind a full-length mirror at the other side of the room, wand aimed directly at my chest. Her mouth was already forming the words. I swerved as quickly as my struggling mind would allow and dived behind the bed. Green light further illuminated the candle-lit room. It seemed the antidote would have to wait.  
  
Soft footsteps padded across the carpet, moving around the bed. Silently, I crawled on my belly in the other direction. When I reached the large chest at the head of the bed, I chanced a peek at my pursuer. My jaw dropped for the first time in my life.  
  
"Oh Merlin... What's she doing here?" I hadn't meant to say that out loud. She spun to face me; her piercing lilac eyes quickly located me.  
  
"You'll never find her before you die." Her rich, illustrious voice cut through the air to my ears.  
  
"I'd say the nightshade would sooner see me dead than you." I told her tonelessly. She laughed.  
  
"Very good, but don't expect me to have mercy on you."  
  
"I have never desired pity from anyone, as you well know." I answered truthfully. This time her eyes narrowed as she took a step closer, her wand still at the ready.  
  
"I know no Death Eaters. Nor do I want to be acquainted with such filth." Her words struck me. That's what I am. Filth. That woman always managed to shred my pride even without realising it, which was rather irritating.  
  
"I understand more than you realise. Yet it still hurts to remember the days when you did not refer to me as filth." Now she gently lowered her wand.  
  
"Severus?" Her barely audible voice was laden with unreadable emotions. Slowly I stood up, my hood casting a black shadow across my white masked face. She looked deep into my eyes, reluctantly. I felt something thing click within me just then, something I knew I would only understand much later. I made to move over to her. She raised her wand again. She could hardly speak.  
  
"How could you, Severus, how?" This question, I could not answer. I would've tried to hide from her gaze the truth in my eyes but the poisons were acting along the lines of Veritaserum. There was nothing I could say or do. I just wanted to talk to her, to... to be with her again.  
  
"I have missed you since the day you left." My senses where dampening, I could feel it; but the sadness in her eyes was unmistakable. She did not reply. I slowly reached into my robes and felt for the antidote to the poison. Something was wrong... it was not there.  
  
"Looking for this?" She held it firmly in her hand. I suddenly realised she didn't intend to give it to me.  
  
"Ursula...don't." My voice sounded weaker, sentences shorter. My body was beginning to slip; yet I struggled to not let it show. She knew at any rate that I would not use magic on her.  
  
"No matter what our past, you are a Death Eater; a slave to Evil! That is all that matters now Severus." She paused painfully. "I thought you were better than that." I saw tears rise to her young, bright eyes as she gazed upon me, a black serpent. She was not corrupted by the darkness. Her innocence had kept her alive, while my foul acts were secretly eating away deep inside me like rot. "You came here to kill my sister. I can't let you do this. I'm sorry. I really did love you." That last sentence nearly murdered me more than what she was about to do. The vial in her hand shifted until it was poised over the ground at her feet. She raised her wand to it and turned away from me, a tear sliding across her cheek. I couldn't let her do it.  
  
Within the blink of an eye I had reached both hands into inner pockets and revealed plan B, as they say. I threw them at her, knowing I would not miss. The knives were all connected by long strands of unbreakable cord. Using their own momentum and power, they wrapped tight around her small body then embedded themselves in the wall behind her. She was pinned and at my mercy. I hated seeing her like that; she was one of the most independent spirits I knew, and I loved her for it, only her.  
  
"Don't bother struggle, it will only get tighter." I whispered breathlessly as a walked over to her. She struggled anyway. Slowly, I removed my mask. "You know I would never harm you." I gently stroked her cheek. She did not flinch at my cold touch. As I looked, I could see in her eyes that she meant every word she had said, however she doubted mine.  
  
"Your eyes burned with warmth once, now all I see is black ice." Her beautiful eyes darkened but I did not pull my gaze from her in guilt.  
  
"Seeing you, has rekindled that dying flame." I moved closer to her, my voice husky, locking with her gaze. Her full lips were unbearably close to my own. Slowly, I ran my hand softly down her neck and along her arm fixed tight by her side until I came to her hand. I did not bother try and prise it from her firm grasp, instead I cupped her hand in mine, sharing her warmth meanwhile. It was up to her should she see me die; and she knew it. Another crystal tear broke down her silk cheek. God, she was still so beautiful, even when she cried. Yet I didn't love her for her physical perfection. My dark gaze penetrated her soft, delicate one glazed with tears of inner pain. "They are coming." They would kill her.  
  
Slowly she released the vial into my hand and closed her eyes, abandoning herself to me. In a moment I had drained the vial and tossed it onto the floor where it smashed due to its frailty. The liquid coursed through my veins like a refreshing drop of water on a wasted land. My senses stopped reeling at last. The gathering fog in my mind dispersed.  
  
I moved my hand up to her cheek. She opened her eyes, not looking me in the eye. I saw fear. "You have changed, Ursula. You were never like this."  
  
"It seems that makes two of us. Finding you allied with my deadliest enemy has crushed any hope and faith I had. That and my impeding doom." She spoke softly and with more than a hint of betrayal. I could not reply. There was nothing I could do to quell her fears. Yes, it was highly likely that she was about to die, and painfully, because she was loyal to the whereabouts of her sister. We both knew it. The thought made my stomach churn. Were these to be our last moments after all? My mind began to race. With all my intelligence I could not think how to save her. She wouldn't run either.  
  
"Is this how we say goodbye?" I could not hold back all the emotion that that sentence incurred. Once again she turned away from me. I brought my other hand to her face and forced her to look into my eyes. "If I can free you, will you find it in your heart to forgive me?"  
  
"You must choose for yourself which path you want to follow. No one else can make that decision but you." This time she did not try to look away. I understood this to be an acceptance of my offer. Her lilac eyes stared back at me like a child's, full of reliance and hope. I slid my hand round the back of her neck to support her head, meanwhile lowering my mouth to meet hers. At first I was unsure if she would respond accordingly, but she did, to my surprise. Memories awoke in the back of my mind as we kissed in the candle-lit darkness. Her lips were just as soft and warm as they had been half a decade ago and I admit, my thoughts drifted substantially more than expected.  
  
"Well, look what we have here!" Lucius, damn his soul! I tore my mouth reluctantly from hers, embarrassed not to have sensed him earlier. "Don't let me stop you old boy; we're all here to have a bit of fun." He waltzed in and knocked over a few delicate little things on tables. Then he looked over at Ursula. I prayed deep inside that he wouldn't recognise her. If he did, things would get difficult.  
  
"Not bad Severus. What's her name?" He was getting curious. This was not good.  
  
"Rebecca." I lied quickly.  
  
"Really, she looks remarkably like Nikita's sister... Are you sure?" He turned to me. I provided him with a perfect look of disgust.  
  
"Legilimency _never_ fails," I pointed out. He accepted it with a raised brow.  
  
"I see, so that's what you were doing... She's a fine creature." After a smile, Lucius moved closer to her and examined her face like an animal, with his snake-headed staff. She shot him a dirty look with her piercing violet eyes. "Hmm. Striking."  
  
"Lucius - the air is poisoned, we must leave." I told him urgently.  
  
"That's not poison Severus, it's called perfume." I gave him a withering look. If only he knew how much danger he was in.  
  
"Breathe deeper, Lucius." I instructed him. He did, and almost choked.  
  
"Alright I believe you," he croaked, making his way to the door.  
  
"Found anyone yet?" I inquired innocently. He shook his head with disappointment. I was only reassured, however, when I heard his footsteps quickly descend the stairs.  
  
"Will he be alright?" Ursula asked after a moment with a tone that suggested she hoped my reply would be negative.  
  
"He'll live to fight another day." I swiftly removed the knives from the wall, replaced them into my robes and tied the loose cords. She understood. I led her to the top of the staircase, replaced my mask and swept her up into my arms. It was obvious she hadn't been expecting it and her surprise amused both of us, contrasting with the growing tension brought on by the sight of my visor.  
  
When we reached the bottom of the stairs, we were greeted with a roomful of carcasses, sofas, wailing women and masked Death Eaters aligned in two short rows. None spoke when they saw me. I lowered Ursula and pushed her brusquely to her knees before them.  
  
"Throw her in with the rest of them," a muffled voice spoke. I proceeded to do so when I sensed another presence in the room, and I wasn't the only one. Some women began to make more noises, which I quickly dismissed with a firm slap, and even my comrades shifted nervously as a hollow, eerie wind swept through the room, chilling us to the bone. This is it, I thought. My Master has arrived.  
  
(to be continued... oh yes there's plenty more to come)
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> * * *
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> A/N: Thanks for all your reviews! don't get emotional spiral's was so nice! Well relatively speaking, to rest of my reviews for anything... I'm happy that someone other than my tortured friends wants to read this... Next chapter up within the month!! PS i've drawn out sketches of some characters if any one wants to see them, not great but they make things a little more interesting. Want them, email me. Also seriously considering upgrading this story to R rating. Hmmm....  
  
Emahra(or something)-yes it was creepy, hence its under horror/suspense. And yes, you are meant to be confused ( slightly. Don't worry about it. You could if you wanted completely ignore that chapter and begin here. I'll reveal subtle clues as I go along as to who they are.  
  
Spiral-Digger: Thanx!!yay! Someone else (other than my poor literary slaves called best friends) wants to read my story!!yay! My friend (nickywal2003 – fanfic) has written 2stories too. She's my best critic, so everything goes through her first. This chapter was edited 3 times to get it right! Phew! Hope its ok! Next few chapters are quite important and packed with dramatic events. Lookin forward to writing them! And as I said, All will be revealed, my friends...  
  
Nebula Regina Zirconia (Queen of the Crystal Nebula)


	3. Memories of the Past cont

> Excuse me while I butcher the perfectly manicured reputation of Severus Snape...  
  
Please Read and Review people. Even a one liner will be appreciated. Just let me know if you're just reading this please. Thanks. Ever wondered how you could use a balloon analogy to describe Voldemort's early regime? Here goes.
> 
> Xxx  
  
This change of events dispelled any further ideas of slipping Ursula away safely and unnoticed. I quickly made my way over to the others and stood towards the back, farthest away from the staircase where a dark haired man with emerald-green eyes stood casually leaning against the stone archway. Looking as if there were a thousand more appealing places he could be right now than here.  
  
The others immediately moved to kneel at his feet and pay their respects. I waited for a moment, watching coolly from afar, watching. When it was our turn, Lucius and I did the same as the rest, except this time something different happened. It took me a moment to realise what the Dark Lord did next. He placed his hand on my head and spoke to me by name, "Rise, Severus Snape." Such a thing was hitherto unheard of. It was indeed a sign of His approval. I rose and backed off slowly, thanking Him. "You seem a promising young servant of mine, showing a high level of intelligence and ingenuity. Such things do not go unnoticed or unrewarded. You will prove your worth to me, before this night is over." I bowed slightly with respect, His smoothly deceptive voice still echoing in my ears. He turned to my friend still on his knees before Him. "I can't say the same, however, about you." Lucius looked up and met His wrathful gaze.  
  
"My Lord, we have hostages who all know the exact whereabouts of the one whom you are searching for. A simple spell and we will know. Crabbe! Goyle! Bring them here." As they trudged off to retrieve the petrified 'hostages', Our Master raised an eyebrow doubtfully at the spectacle and sighed as he passed Lucius. I could sense something ominous even in the way he walked. His next soft words confirmed my dread.  
  
"I left you in charge of this operation and it has taken you this long to find one woman? Not good enough, I'm afraid. Your efficiency is slackening." Lucius hid his shame, fear and anguish rather well for the next few minutes as he endured the agony of the Cruciatus curse. I disliked watching it, but it was my duty. The scene was punctuated by the cries and gasps of the women dragged over by the others and forced down onto the floor before us. They were mostly a contemptible, pathetic lot without hope.  
  
The women were all lined up side by side, like slaves. Some had wrapped themselves up in sheets or other scraps of clothing, their hair tousled and, in some cases, matted with blood. Their faces were streaked with tears and black mascara. One was completely naked, exposed to our condemning gazes. Clearly Mulciber had toyed with that one, judging by the bruises and raw red marks covering her. I shut my eyes to the scene in disgust until I heard a familiar snarl of anger. Ursula was quietly cursing Crabbe for 'man- handling' her. She sat awkwardly at the end of the row.  
  
After the Dark Lord had tired of instructing Lucius (which had surprised me for He rarely disciplined his most faithful ones), He lowered his wand and turned his attention on the women. His eyes moved slowly along the line, evaluating their strengths and weaknesses as if reading a book. He strolled predatorily along the row.  
  
"Each one of you knows why we are here. Each one of you has the opportunity to resolve this situation. All it takes is a word and you will be set free. One can't get much fairer than that. Surely you don't need to be displayed again the consequences of resisting me?" I felt Lucius stiffen beside me at this. My Lord waited a moment, playing with time and suspense as he fingered his wand lazily. Again, no one spoke. After a deep breath he tried a different, harsher approach. "No? Then perhaps you need reminded. One of you little wenches has been providing the Ministry with privy information, exploiting your advantages of being under my protection to gain this knowledge. Tut-tut, did you think I would never notice? Do you think me stupid? You thought you were smarter than me. What on earth would give a bunch of miserable, weak women that idea? If I feel so much as a tingle on my skin, I scratch it. And Nikita, is about to be permanently extinguished. You can either make this easy for both of us, or die painfully in the process of extraction." His voice delighted with the last sentence. The women before him began to tremble under his hot glare and the dominating, evil vibes he exuded.  
  
My Lord needn't have told them that the Cruciatus curse was their punishment if they didn't reveal the whereabouts of Nikita; that was obvious. Of course, initially there were no offers (pathetically loyal to the end, at least Ursula was her sister, she had a reason), so he wrenched it out of them one by one with promises, threats and other Dark spells that he whispered in their ears. I suspect it may have been the 'elicio spectrum' curse to cause illusions and so-forth, revealing what they know. The side affects were an added advantage against the unfortunates. What I find most intriguing about my Lord are his skills in wandless magic, secretly it amazes me the amount of control he exercises over himself and others. Control I can only hope to imitate sufficiently.  
  
The First woman he addressed was the naked girl. She was sobbing hysterically, so he had no time for her. He reached down and took her by the throat, placing his other hand on top of her head. "I have no time for this. Legilimens." Her sobbing suddenly stopped as her eyes rolled back into her head and her wasted body began to shake. After a moment, He removed his hand and let her collapse to the floor. "Mulciber, what have I told you about not finishing what you've started," he said darkly. The named grunted merrily and dragged the girl away by the wrists, never to be seen again.  
  
He repeated this process for two other girls that also bored him. Then he changed his tactics for the next two who weren't wailing in distress. He grabbed her matted hair and whispered into her ear strange mutterings until she broke down into tears, whatever he had said to her, I cannot comprehend. She attempted to lash out at him, but he caught her hand mid- swing and twisted her wrist until it cracked and crunched under his grasp. "You want to play that way, girl? Fine. Crucio." The girl writhed in agony on the floor at his feet, her bony limbs twisting unnaturally with each flick of his wand. Her screams were so piercing I sensed others shift uncomfortably near me. I only found her crying irritating. She strongly resembled a cat being attacked by invisible dogs, driving it insane.  
  
Her faint protests either went unnoticed or ignored until another, louder voice made itself clear. "Stop it! Please, leave her she speaks the truth!" Every face in the room save my Lord's turned dangerously to the insolent woman. Again she protested but all he did was increase the force of the curse. I could tell that there was more than one of us that desired to shut her up once and for all, but none dared make a move in our Lord's presence. Then, after a moment he lowered his wand and declaring the body worthless, he proceeded to assigned it also to Mulciber. Slowly he turned to the last one left, Ursula. Crabbe hoisted her to her feet, her body still held tight by the cord. My mouth went dry when I caught a glimpse of the expression on the Dark Lord's face. Like a hungry wolf's, closing in for the kill.  
  
"At last, one of you seems to have a voice. Speak up girl, what was that you were saying?" His voice was treacherously soft. I watched her gradually raise her face to his.  
  
"No matter. I was simply expressing my confusion as to why we are being punished for the heinous crime of betraying one's Master, my Lord." She spoke innocently and without any hint of sarcasm, which was unlike her. I almost shuddered, however, when she addressed the Dark Lord as her Master. She would no sooner kiss Dumbledore than bow to Him. Strangely, she hated them both equally. Yet, I did imagine a hint of mockery in her words.  
  
"It all revolves around the term 'Cause and Effect'."  
  
"Every word is true, my Lord, but I pray you to look elsewhere for the cause. I swear there is not a woman here, dead or alive that is responsible for your pains."  
  
"Is that right?" The tall man stepped closer to her. "Who do you suggest, then?"  
  
"There is no art to find the mind's construction in the face. Anyone." Ursula turned and cast a long glance at most of the masked Death Eaters present, causing murmurs of disgust. Her words tiptoed on the edge of death.  
  
"Silence." He waved his hand. "Do you have any substance for these accusations?" he said disdainfully.  
  
"I do not accuse them, but you inadvertently, by pin-pointing a weakness in your regime." Her gaze never wavered, neither did her voice. The audacity of her words, however, amazed us all.  
  
"A weakness in my regime?" The Dark Lord spoke softly but with an edge that made us all uneasy. I was thankful not to be on the receiving end of his gaze.  
  
"In fact, one of a few, if I may." Had I been the dramatic type, I would've keeled over on my knees and held my head in my hands while I begun to cry in despair at her self-incarceration. However, I resigned to shutting my eyes and breathing in very deeply. Women.  
  
"I would have killed many others for words for words such as those. What makes you think you deserve my grace?"  
  
"It would be most... beneficial to hear me out."  
  
"Careful then, these words may be your last," he said with a conniving sneer. She continued regardless as he left her and walked behind us.  
  
"Of course these will be my last words, I could hardly expect to stand here, critically and openly analysing everything you stand for, and escape with my life, now could I? Firstly, your activities are too exposed to the enemy. He may be momentarily weak and surrounded by your spies, yet this could lead to your downfall. Continue to pay heed to everything; for as a balloon expands, it becomes more susceptible to bursting, or at least leaking. Like your greatly expanding regime. Constant vigilance is the key. It would be wise to repeatedly reassess the situation, thoroughly testing the loyalty of your servants so as to eliminate any of those less worthy." The rest turned nervously to each other. If the Dark Lord agreed with her, it would mean a painful night ahead for all of us. "Secondly, always have your ultimate goal in mind for every action. We must get our priorities right if we are to succeed, remember. Work before play, as they say, lest the enemy gains advantage. But of course this rule you have never forgotten." My Lord returned to his former position, his eyes unfocused as he considered her words, his expression revealing nothing however, as always. Many books could be written in the hundreds of ways various actions of his could be interpreted. "Why you have come, I do not know. Perhaps you are already conducting my first evaluation. Testing your Death Eaters. Their loyalty, their... abilities." My Lord shifted his infallible gaze back to her, his expression unreadable. Ursula paused and met my Lord's gaze. "You are fully aware of where she is." At this point her voice began to falter slightly, losing its confidence. "So are Crabbe and Goyle. They have already performed their task for this evening, but were ordered to remain silent. Murder is necessary and efficient, but carnage is not only more enjoyable, it is a potent threat to Dumbledore."  
  
The whole room was still; no one dared take a breath as her words sunk in. We all awaited the next move. I now desired the annoying cries of anguished women to break the crushing tension and suspense in the air. Finally, Lord Voldemort spoke with the volatility and grace of a panther, his voice like silk over a dagger's edge. "A critic of your calibre should work for the Daily Prophet. Yes, we must get our priorities right. Work before Play, of course. How astute of you. Someone with such shrewdness would not be beyond deception, either using it as a weapon, or being ensnared by it." He moved closer to Ursula and took her chin in his hand, like her father used to do.
> 
> "Beauty, brains and... balls, in a manner of speaking. Assets I respect in the weaker sex. Had things worked out differently, you may well have been on the other side of one of these masks." He waved his hand gracefully at the gallery of our hidden faces. "Yet, you are rebellious and fail to recognise or show respect for authority. Traits which I do not tolerate, and must be eradicated." My Lord struck her firmly across the face, causing her to fall backwards and land hard on the bloodstained carpet. "Crucio."  
  
She was not so accustomed to being exposed to an Unforgivable. Especially a curse from his powerful wand. She suffered as much as everyone else, but she cared so little of pride. Then, after a few minutes of his personal satisfaction, he suddenly and unexpectedly withdrew the curse. Ordering Lucius to bring him his staff, he walked over to the curled up black satin ball and examined her with his eyes, before hitting her with the staff and pinning her head painfully to the floor. The silver tip began to glow hotly, channelling his anger. She was terrified, breathing rapidly and her eyes locking onto his shoes, unwilling, unable to stray. Slowly my Lord lowered himself to her exposed ear and muttered something to her. She shut her eyes and shed a last tear. His wand appeared from the air, suddenly in his hand. The next, he lowered his outstretched arm to her face. That was when I knew I had to act. Subtlety was not an option.  
  
I sprung forward and planted my self a metre before him. "My Lord! I beg of you one moment," I continued before he could dismiss me or any of the others could seize me for my unexpected impertinence. "Hold your promise true. Give me now my reward." I raised my eyes to his burning ones, swirling with power and malevolence. My breath caught in my throat. Neither of us moved; his glare strongly intimidating. I felt resonances from forgotten memories at that moment. From my father.  
  
"Very well." I blinked. His wand disappeared. "She is yours to do with as you please." My Lord took a few long strides to the door, walking past the others when he stopped as if he had forgotten something. He turned to Ursula still on the floor before me and added, "When you are finished with her, make sure you bring me her eyes."  
  
They all filed out of the room. The door clicked shut behind them. For a moment in the silence I assessed her condition – she had fallen unconscious. But before I could lift her, I suddenly heard shouts from outside and upstairs. The voices of Aurors.
> 
> I cursed and managed to lift her quite smoothly off the ground and run to the corner before the door was blown off its hinges by an Auror. I lay hidden behind a sofa, watching the wary men stalk around the room before sprinting up the stone stairway. One, however, remained. I had to move then before any more appeared. I silently stunned him, and crept out to the hall, carrying Ursula and dodging a hex that burned a hole the size of my head in the main door. Bloody, careless Aurors. I knew I was putting Ursula in great danger this way, but we couldn't disapparate until we were outside.
> 
> I stole a glance through the hole. Thankfully we out numbered them greatly. I chose my moment and dived outside the door into the action, as it were. Standing there in the middle of the cobble street, I was about to disapparate when just before I closed my eyes, another figure came into my view. _Him_. The bloodiest Auror of them all had arrived; the only one of them that still gave me the thrill of battle. Our eyes met instantly like old friends.  
  
"Going somewhere?" His ugly face contorted as his wand rose to my face.  
  
"Not tonight, Moody," I replied with relish.  
  
xXzXx  
  
Slowly, I lowered her body onto the wooden seat. I looked at her once more before covering her with my cloak. Hers was torn and useless. The cold night air threatened snow and was already beginning to penetrate her. With a word, my cloak began to warm up; this heat would keep her alive until someone found her. I turned and walked away.  
  
"If you're gonna leave me like this, you shoulda left me to the Aurors." Her voice was slurred, her lips probably numb.  
  
"I can't look after you, but St. Mungo's isn't an option either."  
  
"Fine. Leave me to the dogs. Come back for my eyes when I'm dead." Her words brought back to me another problem I would face at a later date.  
  
"Someone will be along shortly. Goodnight." I turned to walk away to a place where the moonlight was less bright and more suitable for disappearing.  
  
"I knew you would never love me. But I was a fool for believing you could change from what you are." I turned once again.  
  
"Is this my reward for ensuring your survival? You should be satisfied. You've secured us all a painful night ahead with your 'loyalty' testing." I spoke harshly, covering my surprise with anger. What does she really know about me? No woman like her could understand the sacrifices I make. "You don't know what I compromised to save your skin from that situation. And this is the last time I'll do it. No, you owe me a lot Ursula. You are all that the Dark Lord said you are. I'm sick of undoing your damage and pulling you out of harms way when you resist me."  
  
"You have a strange definition of love, Severus."  
  
"This is no longer about love, it's about survival." She slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, now quite awake, but still weak.  
  
"Ah, I see. You'd rather I had died, so that your one show of emotion wasn't wasted?" I looked angrily at her for saying something so stupid. Many times I didn't understand women. They had such an obscure way of looking at things. I decided it was time to migrate to safer ground.  
  
"What were you doing there anyway? What happened to doing your N.E.W.Ts at Durmstrang? Well?" I saw her shift nervously under my gaze.  
  
"My situation changed. I knew you would be annoyed if I told you, but there's nothing to worry about. I'm of age, now, they can't touch me."  
  
"I wish I was so naïve. My life would be so much simpler." I pulled my robes tighter to expel the draught. Again, I turned to leave.  
  
"So who was that guy who squared up to you?"  
  
"How long have you been conscious?" She winked deviously. "Alright then, what were His last words to you?" She shuddered, but not from the cold, and spoke softly.  
  
"'I will not be mocked.'"  
  
"Remember them well." I walked away with the moonlight casting a long silhouette before me. Her voice called after me.  
  
"What will you do? Where are you going? Severus?! When will I see you again?!" I carried on walking. The Truth was I could not answer her.  
  
"I'm sure you'll think of something! You always do!" These words echoed in my ears as I disapparated. She is right. Then again, she always is.  
  
XzX  
  
A/N: mwahaha! Hope you liked it! Worth the wait? I promise I'll update sooner. Next chapter is shorter I promise. A nice thrilling stop-gap to pump up the suspense.


	4. Visions of the Future

> A/N: all reviews much appreciated, thank you! And because there aren't many, I appreciate those I receive even more, see! Heehee! Anyways here goes, I'm really trying to be less longwinded. Complain if necessary.  
  
O=O======================= (flashback ends)  
  
Visions of the Future.  
  
The man sat meditating deeply on the words he had just read, temporarily oblivious to the world around him as the flames lulled him into a state of subconscious drowsiness. The seductive fire as well as the memory had drained his iron will leaving him tired. The storm outside had abated once more and the fire had succeeded in warming up the air a few metres around it, but the heat did not dispel the cold dread that was once again filling him. The century-old clock chimed, ominously announcing the arrival of midnight. Severus closed the book and replaced it neatly in the top drawer of his desk before he secured it. After a brooding moment, he rose abruptly and extinguished the fire with a word. Walking towards the door, he summoned his cloak and a vial of white liquid which slipped securely into his pocket.  
  
The dark corridors were empty and his footfalls resounded as he made his way out of the castle to the apparation point. Winding tunnels dimly lit and unused but by him, unravelled as he passed. Yet he didn't stop until he reached a large oak door embossed with a coiled, silver serpent. Then, whispering as softly as his touch, he ran his long fingers down the serpent's spine and unlocked the ward. Silently, the door opened revealing the heart of the Forbidden Forest.  
  
The moment he had crossed the threshold, the heavy door swung shut. Glancing back, he noted that the portal had morphed into an old, ivy- covered tree for disguise. Severus strode into the middle of the clearing where he seemed rather vulnerable, being less able to melt into the darkness. As he stretched out his wand, he immediately felt their eyes on him. A twig snapped softly; he saw a pair of red, bloodthirsty eyes staring back at him through the night. Severus determined that this was no time to linger. He wouldn't be explaining to the others that he was late because he was attacked by some hungry half-breed lurking in the forest. Slowly, he replaced his wand and took out another object, one which any creature of sense would fear much more - the Mask. Snape held it gently in his fingertips and, never breaking eye contact with the creature, slipped it on. The reactions were immediate: the mask moulded to his features and enhanced him with its dark, inner power; and the creature's eyes lit up, shocked, before they disappeared completely. He closed his eyes.  
  
Upon opening them, he found that his situation hadn't changed greatly. He was still in the middle of a forest, except it was less windy and it wasn't raining. Initially, he saw no one. Then as he walked closer, the moonlight glinted off a silver surface. He wasn't greeted as the last space was filled in the circle. Once again he was late.  
  
The only man who wasn't donned in a mask stood remotely in the centre of the circle. One of his followers was kneeling before him, clad in black, whispering fervently.  
  
"... Everything is as you wished my Lord. It is ready when you desire to use it." The waxen faced person, whose features didn't seem wholly human, nodded as if he had expected no less from his subject.  
  
"And what of the other?" He asked quietly. The follower hesitated in his reply. "Dead or alive, Macnair?"  
  
"He is strong, master, he resists us fiercely. Our magic isn't strong enough to overcome him, he –"  
  
"Good. We may need him yet. Go." Macnair rose and shuffled to a space near Severus. Glancing quickly across, his eye caught sight of some parchment hanging out of his pocket. At another covert glance, he picked up a word scribbled roughly across the top – 'Prince'. That would definitely be worth reporting to the Headmaster, it might mean something to him, at least.  
  
"Severus, it's so _nice_ of you to join us." At the familiar expression on his Lord's face, mingled with the ominous sarcasm in his voice, the named felt his stomach clench horribly. The Dark Lord was well aware of his reasons why he would often fail to respond precisely when the Dark Lord called, but that didn't mean he accepted those reasons passively. It was enough that he didn't kill Snape for his impertinence. He bent his knee for his Lord, only doing so where he stood, for he had not yet been summoned to him. "Come; let me see you in the light." He then rose, trying not to appear reluctant, and knelt before his master, pressing his lips to the ground before His feet. A hand reached across his chin from above and raised his head slightly. "You were not present at our last meeting," said the older man in a deceptive tone. His eyes blazed down at him. Oh dear, so he hadn't forgotten about that either. Severus opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off. "I suppose you have some terribly waterproof reason as to why you were not present. But don't waste your breath on me, when even time is more valuable to you." As the Dark Lord spoke, Snape's mask began to get hotter, absorbing his radiating anger.  
  
"It would do you well to fear me that bit more, child." Those humiliating words spoken with such malice dulled him emotionally against the pain now searing the soft tissue around his eyes. After a minute, it was unbearable. His eyes watered profusely, and the tears sizzled on the mask's white rim, his clear vision was blurring rapidly, but all the while the sight of those red, evil eyes never dulled. They were boring into his mind, searching, questioning.  
  
Eventually, his Lord slid a finger down the profile of his mask, causing it to just rise off the skin. The agony was still as intense, though. Severus then realised his lip was bleeding, either from the heat or his attempts to stop himself from screaming. His master lifted it further off his visage until his assaulted, tear marked face was exposed to the others. This was the greatest humiliation.  
  
"Don't forget I'm still here Severus," the red-eyed man whispered, sliding his other had up Severus' loose sleeve to the Dark Mark, "and always will be."  
  
"Always, my Lord," he muttered as clearly as possible, holding his head up high, dignified until the last.  
  
The Dark Lord released him and sent him back to his place in the circle fully masked, and disciplined. His vows rang fresh in his mind at that moment, clouding his thoughts until something Lucius Malfoy said drew his attention.  
  
"They are ready to be released, my Lord, and when they are, I believe you will find them to your satisfaction." The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Have they previously been tested outside their confines?"  
  
"No my Lord, they have not. Frankly they ignore us; they are loyal only to you, master. Without your direct instruction, they will not even eat." Lucius was kneeling before the tall man, with his staff placed on the ground.  
  
"If that is so, then why do they remain since I have given them no orders to do so?"  
  
"It seems, my Lord, that as savage as they are, even they know when they meet their maker." Severus could tell that Malfoy was smiling underneath his mask, perhaps from some subtle irony in his words; he wasn't sure. But whatever he was proud of, Severus didn't like it. The Dark Lord gazed down at his subject with an unreadable expression before turning away.  
  
"When it is time, I will summon you and give you my instructions. But what of your other news, that you have been so eager to inform me of?"  
  
"My Lord, simply, I am expecting an opportunity to arise soon that will put myself in a prime position to seize control of the entire Ministry of Magic." Severus narrowed his eyes intently. This was certainly a revelation to some, judging by their quick glances at one another. For him, however, it was not as unexpected. He was all too aware of Lucius' little tea- parties with the minister as well as the abnormally loud jingling coming from Fudge's pocket these days. Dumbledore and himself had anticipated this move months ago, yet neither had thought that it would happen so soon. Evidently, things were being done differently from last time, but for what reason? And what exactly did his companion mean by "expecting an opportunity to arise soon"? Severus stored his thoughts for later reflection.  
  
The Dark Lord tilted his head slightly and gazed down at Lucius. "Continue."  
  
"All the pieces are set, just as you required of me, my Lord. The place reeks of sedition and suspicion. Witches and Wizards have lost their faith in the current Minister. Few know who to trust now, and in their desperation they are turning to me with little persuasion. It will soon be time to initiate stage three. If you will, my Lord, it is time to release the Dementors."  
  
"Tell me, Lucius, have you stopped to consider the consequences of failure?" the Dark Lord posed the question softly.  
  
"My Lord, failure is not possible. An upheaval is in order and those who resist can easily be silenced. The Dementors are an invaluable weapon and can be used efficiently to our ends -"  
  
"Those creatures are not to be used lightly." His eyes darkened with impatience. "Their presence alone in the Ministry points only to us. No, I will not risk it; there will be no mistakes this time." Lucius slouched in a huff.  
  
"Then what am I to do, master? Even one Dementor would be less risky... am sure we could -"  
  
"If you cannot think of anything, then clearly I will have no further need of you and all your efforts will have been in vain. Clear?"  
  
"Of course, my Lord, I understand." Voldemort waved his arm in dismissal. Lastly, he turned to the two hulking forms of Crabbe and Goyle. He only had to raise his eyebrow to bring forth a response. Kneeling on the grass, they informed him that they had been successful. About what, Snape had no idea.  
  
"Excellent," he murmured, turning to the rest of the hooded circle. "The board is set, but the pieces are yet to be played." Slowly, their Lord began to walk purposefully from one to other, gazing upon his Death Eaters with his penetrating eyes. "They think that I lost the last battle, but they do not now what I have since gained. It will be interesting to see how the enemy reacts to my next move. I have a suspicion that the shock will kill him." The Dark Lord made a noise that came terribly close to a chuckle. He continued until he stood before Snape, watching him almost expectantly. Unsure exactly what he was going to be asked, Severus knelt down, his head bowed low, and waited patiently. After a moment, his answer came.  
  
"Deliver this directly into the hands of your other, _dear_ master. It should cover the things that he needs to know. Tell him nothing else of what transpired tonight." Severus raised his eyes and took a fold of parchment from his hand, slipping it carefully into his robes before backing off from His presence. The Dark Lord then proceeded to dismiss the others save Pettigrew, Mulciber, Crabbe, Goyle and Lucius, for whatever reason.  
  
...zCzSz...  
  
Safely back within the castle grounds, Snape strode up along the corridors to the Headmaster's Office, feeling drained. Now was definitely not the time to remind him that he had two hours of Neville Longbottom to endure the next day. Snape didn't bother announce his arrival into Dumbledore's Office; where he found him sitting benignly behind his desk, evidently expecting him. Without a word, he handed over the blank parchment and collapsed on the visitor's chair, rubbing his temples.  
  
While the headmaster perused over the hidden words (hidden to Severus' eyes, that is), Snape took out a small vial of white liquid and brusquely downed it to replenish him. The headmaster glanced at him over his glasses, evaluating his member of Staff carefully.  
  
"You seem tense, Severus. Drink up." Dumbledore requested, pushing a fresh cup of tea in his direction. Holding his head in one hand, Snape eyed the cup warily before declining it with a sneer and rising to leave. "Is there anything you wish to tell me before you go? Off the record?"  
  
"My suspicions are that the Dark Lord has imprisoned somewhere, a 'Prince'. Of what, I don't know. To what consequence, I expect only something detrimental to Wizard-kind, naturally."  
  
"Thank you, Severus. Worrying as it is, your suspicions often tend to be uncannily close to the truth." The old wizard lifted his full cup of tea to his lips, letting it settle for a moment. "You know your efforts are much appreciated by everyone," he commented. The named rolled his black eyes, sighing tiredly. Snape looked down patiently yet expectantly at the Headmaster.  
  
After a minute of silence, the elder voiced his interpretation of Severus' expression. "Since you entered of your own accord, you may leave of your own accord," answering the unsaid question of 'can I go now?' with an encouraging twinkle in his eyes.  
  
"In the aspects of discretion and protocol, Headmaster, I have discerned that it is better not to practice taking liberties and being presumptuous by doing so." Snape replied coldly.  
  
"I take it that also applies to midnight meetings of covert organisations?" The knowing twinkle seemed to fade as his eyes wandered across the few exposed areas of Severus' face. The rest was covered in lank strands of black hair which cut sharply and irregularly across his pallid and pained features.  
  
"Goodnight, Headmaster." Snape concluded before nodding briefly and turning on his heel to leave.  
  
"I am always here if there's anything you want to get of your chest, Severus. As a friend." Snape hesitated just a moment at hearing this, before sweeping wordlessly down the stone staircase and past the gargoyles.  
  
Upon entering his office, the Potions Master continued to move purposefully from cabinet to drawer, collecting the necessary materials. Finally settling at his desk, he scribbled a few lines on a small sheet of parchment using a raven quill containing silver ink, before signing it carefully with another, emerald-green quill. After a moment, the silver ink faded invisibly into the parchment, leaving only the green signature of Severus Snape, which proceeded to burn through it cleanly. In a few swift movements, he had slipped the brief letter and the raven quill into an envelope and sealed it with wax.  
  
Before long he had reached the owlrey. Inside, most of the owls had gone hunting, leaving only the older, less reliable envoys. Gazing up uncertainly into the shadowy dome where most sat unperturbed, he called out to the only the messenger he knew he could trust: "Raven! Come to me." Gliding down on silent wings, the tame crow obediently perched itself on Severus' outstretched arm, awaiting his instructions. "The skies are dark and dangerous, full of new predators," he whispered as he attached the letter to its leg. "Fly low. Stick to the darker regions. If you are followed, seek sanctuary in a muggle village. This letter is to be delivered without fail into the right hands. I expect a reply. Go." The large, sleek bird departed with little prompting, flying off into the night carrying its baleful but urgent message.  
  
xXx  
  
For the rest of that night, Snape did not rest in peace. Severus sat on the edge of his bed with his face buried in his hands, shivering coldly, and anxious that this was the second time that night he'd woken up with his senses screaming at him, bringing on one of the worst headaches he'd ever had. There was only one word for this reaction: Fear. Despite the sleeping potion he administered himself, the dreams persisted. Or perhaps they could be more appropriately named visions. But of what? The things he saw were not snippets of buried memories longing to escape, as usual; even the dream itself wasn't normal – everything was uncomfortably vivid. Turning over in his mind the things he saw, he attempted to make sense of it all, to little avail, it seemed. All it succeeded to do was magnify that blinding pain in the back of his mind.  
  
There was a dark tunnel, at the end of which moved vague, hooded yet strangely elongated figures radiating a strange, orange light. It felt repulsing to Severus. As he was drawn closer, through no will of his own, the glow appeared to be more of a noxious mist, mingling and drifting around him... they were calling to him, but like a predator calls to the prey... long fingers formed and stretched out, grasping ... clawing ... there was nothing he could do to resist... and yet there was... something so simple but long forgotten... something... overlooked ... the fingers were reaching for him, searching ... for his heart... After that, he woke up breathless and feeling the urge to throw up everything he'd ever eaten.  
  
But the last one had been worse. This time there were voices, cold and devoid of emotion, that faded the moment they were spoken yet rung out acutely in your mind. And this time, the figures were much closer, so that he could see their faces clearly. What he saw unnerved him greatly. Their faces were unnatural, seamless, without mouths, save for two small holes at the end of a short but slender nose. Their eyes, on the other hand, were faded with lifeless white irises, bulging slightly from their sockets. They appeared blind, but he knew that the things they saw were far beyond human perception.  
  
The nearest one approached him and again drew him closer, its sightless eyes reading him like a book. Slowly it lowered its hood revealing a bald, white pate with a small button-sized black hole on the upper surface of the skull. It leaked no blood. The creature captured his gaze and tested his mental boundaries, pushing him to the limits. Then it broke through the wall separating it from him. The creature penetrated everything. He was once again helpless as the creature's head morphed into a skull opened its 'mouth' as a large snake emerged from it. The ugly viper reared its head and struck him hard in the neck. The result was a hot prickling pain seeped through his body to all his muscles. Suddenly he realised he was dying.
> 
> Then, just as suddenly, the creature morphed back again, looking almost sorry as it cowered away from him. Yet it wasn't finished with his crumbling body. When it rose, in its hand it held a blue light, which slowly rose over to him and hovered uncertainly over him. The creature reached out and clasped his jaw in its hand, opening it. Instantly the light disappeared ... and that was when Severus woke up to find himself shaking in a cold sweat with an intense fever, like the symptoms of a lethal snake bite.  
  
He sat racking his brains over the meaning of these visions. Were they of the future, the present, or the past? Was it symbolic? Why was he having these nightmares? Was it safe to sleep again? With an effort, he summoned a decanter of deep green liquid and poured himself a glass, watching dizzily as it glowed. Two large glasses later, his headache faded, allowing him to focus despite his defences being down. Sitting there, gazing into the potent, swirling concoction, a thought sprung into his mind. He had no idea how it got there, but the more it sat there, the more he was certain of it. With a third glass, a bit of squinting, Snape threw on his dark nightgown and walked along a private corridor to his office where he flooed the Headmaster's office.  
  
At the other end, Snape found his body failing him again. He knocked softly on the door. Within moments, the sleepy old wizard had opened the door to him. Upon seeing his present state, he immediately invited Snape in and inquired if the Professor was having nightmares again. On both accounts he shook his head weakly, as he held on tight to the doorframe for support. Finally managing to compose his shaking system, he raised his eyes and spoke with grave conviction,  
  
"These weren't nightmares, Headmaster. They were warnings."  
  
xXxXxXxXxXx  
  
hope you liked this chapter, feel free to give me your comments. yawn I sat up soo long doin this... the next chap is cool, we will find out how harry's summer has been, and much more... I know that doest sound good but take my word for it, if al goes according to plan, and the characters don't revolt, it will be the best one by far... action, intrigue, horror and suspense and different types magic of course... but all in Little Whinging???


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